Inevitable
by dinabar
Summary: Post Shadows fic. The events of the day have traumatised them both, all Nikki wanted was to be back with Harry but in facing each other they have to face up to more of their own fears.
1. Chapter 1

**Post Shadows Fic. All characters, plot quotes etc. belong to the BBC.**

**I rewatched Shadows when it was on over the summer and was struck by a couple of things I have tried to work into this fic. One is a fact, Harry is left handed and one is a suspicion and I eagerly await your views on whether any of you can see it too. It is also not in the same happy-go-lucky mould as the previous two fics, so beware. It has a T rating for naughty words and general unpleasantness, and also a SW fanfic heresy alert. You have been warned. **

**Phrases that appear centred and in italic are quotes from the episode, I imagine them as flashbacks in Nikki's brain, that are pertinent to the dialogue but not actually part of the dialogue, if that makes sense. Any questions, or you just think I'm mad do let me know. **

Inevitable

The knock on the door was inevitable. She had known it would happen. It had to happen.

It had to happen.

It's what she had told herself for the last four hours since Leo had bundled her into a police car and demanded that she be driven home.

"As soon as he's out, I'll send him to you," was all he had said.

Her mind tumbled through the mess that was the day, jumbles and fragments assaulting her senses.

"_It's tempting to confuse need with love."_

It was like watching life on digital fast forward, a series of blurs and jumps between fragmentary sharp images. And those images were so strong, so vibrant it was hard to take in the fact that she was safe and sat alone in her apartment.

"Harry!" she heard her voice whisper from earlier in the day, so desperate, so impoverished of his presence even though he was there, right in front of her, just a few metres across the classroom.

She could feel her body begin to tremble again.

She heard the rattling of the door, the screams, the shots. Felt her arms around some stranger but out of reach of Harry's. She could see Harry cowering behind that desk, curled into a foetal ball, fists in his hair, arms protecting his head. The stark crisp whiteness of his shirt highlighting the abject terror in his face. It should be him her arms were wrapped around, not this stranger.

"Harry," she sobs again in real time, in the now.

"_We're the only medics in the building, they won't let anyone else in for hours."_

Jump. His fingers closed around her hand, his legs taking giant but slow strides, out into the familiar but now alien corridors, her own legs shuffling along behind him. Being led by him. Allowing him to take charge. Following him. Shadowing him as if she had nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to be.

Did she?

Jump, an open gunshot wound to the neck.

"_Get my mum, get my mum. Please?"_

Jump. Blood. Blood everywhere.

Jump. Anger, pain, disappointment, abandonment.

"_Don't worry, I'll be quick."_

She didn't know why she was so angry, she knew even as he said it, he didn't really mean it.

Jump. Fear, a gaping void of darkness and fear. Alone. Except for a teenager and a gun.

"_No one, no one would miss me_!"

Her heart ached still from the truth buried amongst the lies she had told.

Neil Corrigan.

The man with the gun.

But her thoughts could dwell there no longer. For the knock on the door had come. And despite longing for this moment, waiting for hours, alone, she dreaded the consequences of opening the door.

"_It's tempting to confuse need with love."_

"Nikki, it's me," his voice sounded hoarse, exhausted.

"Open the door, please,"

"_Harry!"_


	2. Chapter 2

"Harry," she breathed as she cautiously opened the door to him.

He stepped over the threshold and pulled her towards him. It was what she wanted wasn't it? What she had been waiting for? Harry Cunningham's arms around her back, his nose buried into her neck and his very soul whispering to hers that everything was alright now.

But the moment had gone. The danger had passed. Now they were just two colleagues, together after a calamitous day. She pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"How are you?" she asked stiffly, breaking the eye contact, not knowing where to begin.

"I've been better. You?" he replied.

"Same," she said sadly, surveying her shoes. She walked backwards into her room, causing Harry's arm to drop from hers. He turned to close the door.

"Your car key." Harry said, producing the key with a flourish and then not knowing what to do with it, hung it on a hook near the door.

"My car's at the Lyell Centre," Nikki muttered.

"Leo, asked me to drive it home for you. He said you wanted to see me," Harry explained.

"So I get bundled into the back of a blue and white, and you get the keys to my car! What was Leo thinking?" her voice caught with the sudden emotion, the anger repressed for so long relentlessly rising to the surface, at this insignificant injustice.

"I think Leo was worried that you would never leave," Harry said sagely.

"And you?" she replied tartly.

"Me?" he scoffed. "He was probably worried where I'd go."

Silence descended.

"I'm sorry Nikki," Harry began after he could stand it no longer.

"What are you sorry for?" Nikki asked.

Harry paused. He wasn't sure anymore. There seemed to be a long list, but he could sense her anger, her tension, the molten lava of boiling emotions that would explode under the smallest additional pressure. He said nothing but ventured towards her kitchen looking for a drink.

"Beer, wine?" he called over his shoulder.

"Got mine," she replied raising her glass; the golden liquid sloshing around the bottom.

"Ah, something stronger," he replied and filled a glass from the uncapped bottle on the kitchen table.

There was silence once more. Harry didn't need to wait to be asked to sit down. He'd been here so many times before and he'd just helped himself to a drink without being invited. But tonight he felt like a stranger. He didn't like it. He leant against the doorframe and watched her scrubbing at her hands.

"How many showers have you had today?" he asked quietly.

"It won't come off!" she cried, her eyes flashing suddenly and filling with tears. But then he saw her inhale sharply and the Nikki mask fall back in place. Explosion averted.

Silence.

"What was he like?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Scott,"

"Scott Weston?"

"That is who you were working on all day wasn't it?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "It was Scott in the toilet block, he had a gunshot wound to the face and was in a bad way but he was still alive. I did what I could to make him comfortable, stop the bleeding, you know…"

"Yes, but what was he like?" she repeated, turning to look at him.

"Why do you want to know?"

Nikki just shrugged and looked expectantly at him.

"I don't know, Nikki. He was barely conscious. He wasn't wearing a badge if that's what you mean, 'Hello, my name's Scott and I'm a psychopathic killer,'" Harry replied. He was losing patience with her. These questions were impossible to answer and irrelevant. Neither of them had slept last night and surviving the day they had just had on a coffee fuelled all-nighter was never going to be easy. But now there was this. He needed to be calm. He needed to calm her down, comfort her. But she was acting so peculiarly, so hostile, and he was exhausted. He was only too aware how easily he could lose his temper, or just lose it altogether.

"He had an extradural haematoma amongst other things, he'll probably make it."

"Thanks to you," Nikki said. "You managed to relieve the pressure on his brain."

"Yes."

What else?"

"What do you mean what else?"

"You seem very evasive," Nikki probed.

"Evasive?" he scoffed. "He was almost in a coma, we didn't chat if that's what you're asking."

But Nikki didn't miss the way he looked away, and pulled at his hair.

"Did you know?"

"Would it have made a difference?"

The question hung in the air and she regarded him quizzically.

"You did good work today," Nikki assured him.

It was almost the first positive thing she had said, but it was no easier to believe for Harry who just expelled air from his mouth in a disbelieving fashion.

"Show me," she asked.

"Show you what?"

"Show me how you did it."

**I wanted this reunion to be really awkward, so not easy reading I know, but come on you angst lovers… do me proud…**


	3. Chapter 3

**And I was expecting hate mail. So glad you're enjoying the angst. Thank you all.**

"Show me," she repeated.

"What, why? I'm not sure you'll likely to need to repeat the procedure anytime soon. Nikki what's this about, what is wrong?"

"Show me please," she begged.

"Do I really need you to scrutinize my DIY surgery? Nikki what are you trying to achieve?" he asked.

"There's something," she stated simply. "Something you're not telling me."

"There's not Nikki, there's really not. I haven't told you anything much, because there is nothing much to tell. Nikki we're both too tired for this, what's this actually about?"

"Please," she whispered, tears hovering in her eyes.

Harry walked towards her, and knelt on the floor by her feet.

"Do you want to act the part, or are you just here as a scientific observer?" he asked sourly. He might have tacitly agreed to play along with this game of hers, but there was no way he was going to let her think he was doing it willingly.

She remained standing, so he acted out his phone call, the writing of notes on his gloved hand, the position of the police officer, the pocket knife and plastic forceps procedure. He sat back on his heels when he finished.

"Satisfied?" he asked and turned to look up at her. He was startled by her savage expression.

"You could have compromised your gloves."

"What?"

Pause

"You did it, just like that, just like you showed me then?"

"Yes!"

"Exactly like that."

"Yes, exactly like that. Nikki what is it? You're making my head hurt."

"_Do you get a lot of headaches?"_

"You did know!" she pronounced.

"Know what?"

"You're a liar," she spat, stumbling backwards away from him.

"Nikki? What the hell is the matter with you? How dare you?"

"You perform brain surgery, on the floor of a toilet, with a dirty pocket knife and you do it all right handed! You would have been happy to let him die!" she declared.

Harry rocked back away from her. He couldn't even formulate a reply. He had to get away. They were no good together. Not like this. Not today. Nowhere to hide. He had nowhere to hide from her and her insights. He was sick, sick to death of fear and prejudice and assumptions. He was a scientist, he was a doctor, he did his job. He didn't need one of Nikki's dramatic monologues on the state of the nation's youth, or on God's allowance of suffering in the world, or whatever argument she was spoiling for. Not when she'd just called him a liar to his face and criticized his actions and the methods that had saved that kid's life.

"Nikki," he chided his voice stern. "It was an emergency, I acted. I did what I did. He would have been dead. What's the matter? Why is this so important? Why does it matter? You're safe, I'm safe; we can't change anything that has happened. You need to let this go." He was standing now, backing across the room.

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do!" she screeched. "All day, all bloody day, I've had men telling me what I can or can't do: making decisions for me, ordering me about, threatening me, putting me in danger."

"_You're forgetting I'm still the one in control here."_

Harry looked up with what he hoped was an apologetic look.

"Don't" she cried. "It was you that got me into all this in the first place."

Harry stopped. Was she blaming him for the atrocities of the day? Or was he just the closest living candidate to receive the outburst of fury that was lying just below the surface of their conversation.

"You didn't have to stay," Harry said honestly, surprised by his lack of anger.

"I'm not a coward!" Nikki insisted.

"I never said you were. Nikki, what went on today, there are no training manuals, no dry runs. We did what we did and most of it on instinct; we helped those we could…"

"And who did I help?" she screamed interrupting him. "By staying in there, who exactly did I help? I prolonged the agonising death of Matthew Frisk just enough for him to die alone outside in an ambulance. Is that creditable? Is that worthwhile? Is that helping? I was then in the wrong place at the wrong time to spend an hour in the presence of Neil Corrigan, long enough to convince him to give himself up only to see him shot dead in front of my face as he surrendered his gun to me. It's hardly a great success rate and you, YOU! You save the life of the psychopath that started it all, and it's so easy for you, you can even manage it right handed!" Exhausted by her speech, she sat down hard on the sofa behind her.

"_Get off your arse and find me something to eat!"_

Harry slowly digested all that she had to say.

"It wasn't easy," he whispered but there was something, even after the day they had had, there was something else that had upset her. Maybe it was just the booze having an effect but he was sure something had happened that she hadn't told him about yet.

"Is that it?"

"You think that isn't enough?" she scoffed. "At least ten dead, and many more traumatised."

"No, there's more," he insisted. Why he felt the need to stay for the encore was beyond him? But he was suddenly overcome by a weariness that rooted him to the spot.

"What is it?"

There was a long pause.

"Come on Nikki, you can tell me."

"_Promise me it'll be you that cuts me open Dr Alexander."_

"I liked him," she confessed.


	4. Chapter 4

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked.

"_Even my mum would be a bit put out and I'm a monster."_

"I liked him! I thought he was a monster, he said he was a monster and I still liked him!" she cried.

"Nikki, you like people, it's who you are, your cases, the victims, you like them, you get involved and you've never even met most of them, not when they're alive. You just got the chance to like Neil before he died." Harry explained.

"That is supposed to make me feel better?" she asked.

"I don't know, Nikki, it's been a terrible day, what does it matter?" Harry retreated to find his drink. He was tempted to refill it, but he had a feeling that would be a dangerous move.

Silence.

He went and refilled his glass in the kitchen and offered the open bottle to her.

"Why can't I like you?" Nikki asked.

Harry was about to bluster back that of course she liked him, but the look in her eyes made him hesitate. He concentrated on his drink, and tried to determine what she was actually asking. He could find no answer and so began to think about what the difference was between himself and a dead man whom he had never met; who's only known action of today was to shoot his friend in the face, and gain Nikki's compassion.

"Did he hurt you?" Harry asked, a sick feeling replacing the burning sensation of the alcohol in his empty stomach.

She stared at him, interpreting his question.

"No, not like that," she replied.

"He threatened you, scared you, put that gun to your head, shouted at you, imprisoned you," Harry listed, still in his own mind trying to find a comparison, anything that had made her like this.

"Yes,"

"I frightened you, I placed you in danger, I left you," he listed again this time referring to his own actions.

"Yes," she admitted, more calmly than he had seen her all evening. So her next words came as a complete surprise.

"I tried Harry, I tried to help him escape. I even showed him the way out. I told him about the dustbins, Harry I practically held the door open for him. I knew he was a murderer and yet I felt… I felt…"

"Nikki, he was holding you hostage, you did what you did to be rid of him to get yourself free," Harry interjected.

"I did not!" she shouted back. "I lied to him, I provoked him, I mocked him, I disobeyed him, I patronised him and I held onto that gun, looked him in the eye, jabbed it into his heart and promised to fill out his autopsy report for him. He had a million chances to pull that trigger like he had on Scott and I just kept on goading and goading"

"_So are you going to shoot me?"_

Harry remained quiet. He had taken a step closer but it was clear she would not be calmed with a touch and so he let her rant.

"But he didn't shoot me and he wouldn't leave, he wanted to die. Die for his friends. Die like his friends. Why didn't he shoot me? What a complete waste. What is wrong with me? Why couldn't I save him? You get to be Mr Wonderful saviour of many, one hand tied behind your back. Why couldn't I save him? Why didn't he leave? Why didn't he just go when he had the chance? Why did I have to feel… never mind," she shook her head and turned away from Harry again.

"What did you feel? Pity, disappointment, solidarity?"

"If only," she mumbled hardly loud enough for Harry to hear. "I didn't think Stockholm syndrome was supposed to kick in after half an hour."

"Shit!" exclaimed Harry, backing away from her himself now. The pieces of the terrible puzzle beginning to take shape. She kept using the word like, but it was another four letter L-word he suspected she meant and it wasn't love either, it was lust.

"Nikki," his voice quavered. "You were fighting for your life; people are capable of thinking, feeling doing all sorts of things…"

"But I'm not people am I Harry? I'm just plain old Dr Alexander, lonely spinster pathologist with a death wish and an appalling taste in men."

"Don't say it," Harry retaliated. "Don't," his earlier calmness, burned away by the onslaught of anger and hatred and fire spewing up in the room. 'Why can't I like you?' That's what she had said earlier wasn't it. That's what this was about.

It always came back to the two of them. He hadn't been afraid when he stood under that bomb, watching the light change from green to red but he did have regrets and they were all about her: things he would have changed, things he should have done, said. And her? She had terrified herself, flirting with and being attracted to a murderer. Shit!

Where did that leave him? Her friend and usual protector was he just an emergency spare tyre; always right behind her, there in a crisis but the rest of the time so familiar as to be wholly ignored.

"What is wrong with me?" she asked plaintively.

But Harry couldn't answer, because right now the answer wasn't: 'nothing I think you're perfect.' There was a long list, a very long list and he knew she didn't want to hear any of them. Nothing about how infuriating she was when she was like this, or the way she used her sexuality to control the men in her life. Or that she was a coward.

"_It's tempting to confuse need with love."_

"Don't do this Nikki, don't go there," he implored.

For a second all was calm, and he thought he had got through to her. But it was merely the unnatural calm in the eye of the storm. She raised her eyes to his and asked.

"Why can't I like you, like that?"

They faced each other across the room, there was no stopping it now; nature had to take its course, it was inevitable.

"_It's all damage congenital or trauma."_

He could feel the change, feel every muscle in his body go taught, feel his hands claw into fists at his sides and his words form venomous and cutting.

"I can't help it if you get turned on by some gun toting maniac Nikki. You always did have a thing for abusive men; or powerful men. It must make you feel so much better, when you realise you have them in the palm of your hand. But it's not for long is it Nikki, because it all goes wrong, it always goes wrong because ultimately you always pick the bastards don't you? And when you realise you don't actually control them that's when you move on, or they dump you. But by then you always have someone else to blame. It's never your fault is it? Because they were bastards when you started. Am I right? Am I? Is that why you wanted to know what Scott was like? In case he was any better than this other one, this Neil," he paused for breath but not for long.

"I'm sorry I don't live up to your expectations. Maybe I'm just a little too boring for your tastes; accidentally finding yourself in the middle of a massacre with me, not dangerous enough for you? Perhaps you would prefer it if I knocked you about a bit, or started locking you in the mortuary drawers. I can't believe you. You selfish bitch! We both could have died today, and this is all that you can think about? Well maybe Neil should have pulled that trigger when he got the chance, and that bomb had gone off and then we could have both died in peace without this shit storm!" He staggered a few steps back to lean against the wall. He daren't look up. But he could hear her breathing raggedly; the slight hint of an asthmatic wheeze under the dry sobs. He turned his body to the wall resting his forehead on the cool paintwork. It was not the time for this. They were too tired. There would be regrets. They'd seen too much today.

Slowly he turned around, retrieved his empty glass and put it back in the kitchen and walked over to where she still stood shaking.

"_Just tell me what to do."_

"I'm going to go now," he said forcing an evenness and calmness to his speech, that in reality were far from him. He'd only walked a couple of steps towards the door when the bangs came.

"_Pop. Pop. Pop."_

Whether a car back firing, fireworks being let off or just the upstairs neighbour dropping something on the floor, who knew?

"_Pop. Pop. Pop."_

But the sound was there; just as it had been earlier in the day and before he even realised, Harry had turned, grabbed her in his arms and pulled them both to the floor for safety, his arms protectively around her back, her face cradled into his chest.

They stayed huddled together, long after that noise had stopped but it was a long time before Harry realised he was the source of the sound of the sobs.

* * *

><p><strong>Go on, you can say it 'eek.'<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Ooh I feel like Darth Vader… Come with me to the dark side… So glad so many of you are enjoying this.**

"Harry, Harry. I'm so sorry, so sorry," she cried into his neck.

"Harry, I didn't mean it, you know I didn't mean it, any of it, Harry please," she begged.

She had his face in her palms now, her thumbs futilely wiping away his seemingly unstoppable tears.

"Harry please," she whispered again, as she tried kissing away another one.

"Say you'll forgive me, please Harry. I'm sorry, really sorry. I shouldn't have provoked you like that, it's all my fault." She punctuated her apologies with more kisses, down his cheek, and back to his neck where she nuzzled into his shoulder again.

"It's not true, it's not true."

"You're all I've got Harry, you and Leo you're all I've got. Please say you'll forgive me."

Harry remained resolutely unresponsive.

"I need you Harry," she soothed.

"_It's tempting to confuse need with love."_

"No you don't, you don't need anyone, you're a one woman show, everything just always has to be about you. I'm sick of being your safety net," he growled.

"That's not true, Harry you know it's not true. You're not that, please believe me. What we have it's much more than that, much more. It's been the two of us for so long now, Harry! I don't want it to change," she pleaded.

"But I just don't do it for you, do I?" he thundered.

"_Just stay here. You will be safer here."_

"Harry," she moaned but in her mind's eye she saw him throw that student across the room.

"That is not an answer," he stated, gripping her shoulders and roughly pulling her away from him, but holding on tight.

"Now's not the time for this Harry, we're too tired…" she never got to finish his little speech.

"You think of that now. What about five minutes ago when you were screaming at me, calling me a liar and telling me that Neil Corrigan was more of a man than I am? Do you really think I've wanted any of this?" he shook her by the shoulders again.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "It should have been you."

"What?" he gave her shoulders one last shake, and then pushed her right away from him. "What should have been me? The one with my brains splattered across a wall. Is that what this has descended to? Is that what you want?"

"You should have been with me, you said you'd be quick," she said regretfully.

It was obvious that wherever Nikki was in her mind, it wasn't with Harry in the here and now; the two of them still sat on her floor.

"_Tell the KAD if he wants to come round, I'll make him his favourite Cup-a-Soup."_

"It was just that I needed you, I've never known anything like it Harry. I couldn't think, I didn't know what to do, you were in the Percival building and I was so alone. I just kept hearing those screams over and over in my head. Leo said he would call Janet, but I didn't want Janet, I just wanted you and you weren't there."

Silence

"But then he was," she finished.

Finally she was beginning to make sense.

"Nikki," Harry began quietly, pulling his knees up against himself; letting his body begin to relax. "If I had been with you, there is every chance that both of us would be dead by now, along with Leo, countless students, policeman, paramedics and whoever else was in the vicinity. Because of you, because of what you did we know the truth of what went on at LSSE today. Without you the story is incomplete, and if you hadn't befriended him, he would never have opened up to you about what really happened. You Nikki, you're the one with the success here. I'm just the one with a barely alive psychopath on my scorecard."

"You wouldn't have let him die, even if you were sure would you?" she asked.

"No," he replied.

There was another silence, but this time Nikki met Harry's gaze.

"I'm sorry about all the things I said," she apologised.

"You were right, I could easily have moved position; I don't know why it didn't occur to me at the time. I'm sorry too." Harry got to his feet, walked across the room, offered Nikki a hand, pulled her up to standing , but he couldn't take her into his arms, not with those words still infecting the air around them.

"I'm sorry I never came back."

"I never really expected you to."

"So what has this actually been about?" Harry asked.

"I don't control you, do I?" Nikki asked quietly.

Harry's heart ached from her stated ambivalence to him, she had wounded him deeply with those words, no she didn't control him, not like she did the others. She didn't control him at all, but she did have the ability to make him lose control; lose his mind with worry when she was missing, lose patience, lose his temper. That she did do. Well it took two to play a power game like that and he knew exactly how to wound her and expose her vulnerability. His desire for revenge rumbled despite the apologies and it still felt as if there was something else. Tonight it seemed there was always something more, some new fear yet to be discovered.

Her question remained waiting to be answered.

"Nikki, you need to drop this, it's really not the time," he said suppressing his need to lash out again.

"You do think I'm a coward don't you," she asked taking a step closer.

Neither could look away from the other now. They both knew what Nikki was actually asking.

No words were said. Harry could hear the blood thumping in his ears.

"In some ways you are a coward," he said narrowing his eyes, making sure he was provoking her. "You make sure those poor bastards never have a chance, because you're too afraid to face the fact that you are incapable of having a proper relationship." The sweetness of the revenge and the pain he knew he was causing spurring him on.

"And, you're the liar," he declared, stepping forward into her space, his mouth inches from hers.

She didn't flinch at his words, just continued to stare into him.

"Because I think you do like me," he insisted.

She didn't reply, but she didn't look away either.

"_Just tell me what to do?"_

"_You know what to do."_

"I think you've liked me for a while."

"I think you're afraid of just how much you do like me," he taunted her.

They continued to stare at each other, this time the silence was charged.

"This is not the right time for this," Harry declared before reaching closer and roughly kissing her lips.

"We're much too tired," he said and snatched at her mouth with his own again.

"There'll be regrets," he murmured against her lips deepening the kiss, her hands meanwhile had found their way around the back of his neck, into his hair and pulling him closer against her, despite his obvious anger.

"We've seen too much," he whispered against the skin of her cheek, and he heard her gasp and turn to find his mouth again.

Nikki made sure that there was no possibility that Harry could misinterpret her responses.

"_You wouldn't kill yourself would you, not if you felt loved back._

_You're asking the wrong person, Neil."_

Instead of deepening the kiss, Harry nipped at her lips once more and then pulled her sharply away from himself. "Nikki, really now is not the time."

She stared at him, startled and confused, before the reality of what was before her hit home.

Blinking back more tears, she searched his eyes for his motivations but saw only anger.

"I know," she sighed.

"But sometime?" she asked her heart raw, exposed and laid bare.

"_You're forgetting, I'm still the one in control here."_

Harry didn't reply. It was all too much, he didn't know, he really didn't know. They were too tired and there would definitely be regrets. His every instinct was to run, he'd stayed after the first show down between them, but this was too much. There would be no fake gun fire now to distract them.

"I think I should go now," Harry said seriously.

"Get some rest, we'll be working flat out for the next week," he added with forced benevolence.

"Harry! I'm sorry…" she began.

He pressed his finger against her lips, "Shhh! Enough now, go to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight Harry," she replied kissing his finger that had lingered against her lips.

"Goodnight Nikki," Harry said, snatching his hand away from her. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Harry," she said quietly. "I am attracted to you, you do know that don't you, didn't I just make it obvious."

"That's hardly important is it?" he said softly, unwilling to let anything else start them off again.

"Isn't that what we were fighting about?"

"I don't think so," he said pensively. "Nikki, attraction is bullshit. If you actually want to manage some kind of long term relationship, you need to stop listening to your hormones and find someone that you can actually face waking up to each morning, and who you can imagine having the same conversations with week in week out about which bin it is that has to go out on a Wednesday night, and who's turn it is to collect the dry cleaning."

"_It's tempting to confuse need with love."_

And with that he finally pulled his eyes away from hers and slowly walked to the door and let himself out.

* * *

><p><strong>It was my original intention to leave it here or somewhere like here, but there was still one more layer that just wouldn't leave me alone. The key to it all…Any guesses?<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**For Ana and Amy my dark side devotees**

Nikki stood alone in her apartment once more; it seemed littered with snatches of their fight, their silence and their reconciliation.

Reconciliation. Is that what that was? Maybe it was for her, but she knew in her heart that Harry was still fighting. It was not the time for analysing that little power play, she was too tired, she'd seen too much.

She was on complete sensory overload, her lips still on fire from Harry's touch and yet she was so drained; she could do nothing it seemed except stand and stare.

So tired.

Eventually she noticed her glass and she downed the rest of the fiery drink. She was surprised at just how much her hand was shaking; she carried the empty glass back towards the kitchen.

She placed hers down on the side next to Harry's. The clink of glass on glass startling her.

"_Harry!"_

What had she said to him? What had she done? He had to realise what was really true.

He would know, wouldn't he? She had shown him that, told him that, hadn't she, just now. He had to know.

It would still be the two of them, together. They would get through this.

'Was he right?' she thought ominously. Did she pick the wrong sort of men, just to give herself an ego boost, when she felt she could control them? And use their inappropriateness as an excuse when it all went wrong? Did she reject the only man who understood her completely because if their relationship failed, she'd have no one to blame but herself? Did she base her understanding of love on some hormonal surges?

She flicked off the kitchen light and pulled her cardigan around her, desperate for any feeling of security and went to switch off the rest of the lights.

She stopped in her tracks as she looked towards the light switch by her front door. Hanging just to the side was her car key.

Despite the leaden workings of her exhausted brain, she slowly began to realise that when Harry had come over he had driven her car. His car must be back at the Lyell Centre. He would have had to have taken a cab. But he didn't have his jacket. He always kept his wallet in his jacket with his keys. Stupid man; he insisted that keys in trouser pockets ruined the style and line of them. She had told him numerous times that the bulging jacket pocket look wasn't good either, but he just replied with something like 'where else am I supposed to keep my sweets?'

She took one step towards her front door.

"_Harry!"_

Another.

"Harry," she whispered.

This was crazy. Did she really expect him to be sat outside her apartment?

Three steps.

Four.

She took the key off the hook from where Harry had placed it.

Tentatively she opened the door and peered out onto the staircase.

She couldn't tell at first if he had actually gone to sleep or not; sat four steps down not far from her door, with his head resting between the bars of the balusters.

"Harry," she called, a little louder this time.

He stayed where he was, but turned his head to face her.

Nikki was shocked by the sight of him; the red rimmed eyes, the exhaustion, the despair.

"Nikki," he mumbled.

"You didn't leave?"

He just looked down at himself, seemingly surprised to find himself still there.

"I did leave," he said thoughtfully. "I came back."

Nikki looked at him quizzically.

"I was quick," he added dryly.

"Why didn't you knock?"

He shrugged.

"I've run out of ammo," he replied wearily.

Nikki stepped out of the doorway, leaving the door ajar and sat down too.

"I don't want to fight anymore," he said.

"I stopped fighting a while back," she added quietly, more to herself than to Harry.

They waited.

"I wasn't worried about dying you know, when it came to it. I was a bit surprised," he laughed hollowly to himself.

"I was scared," Nikki admitted truthfully.

"Ah, but you didn't choose to be held at gunpoint. I knew there would be danger. I knew it would be bad. I chose to go back." He rested his head against the bars again.

There was another pause.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he said simply. "It's unforgivable. You're off the hook, seems like I am a bastard too after all."

"Please don't say that Harry, it's not true."

He shrugged again.

"I wouldn't blame you if you tried to steer clear of me for a while," he added before another long silence.

"I'm not."

"Not what? Stearing clear?"

"Sorry you kissed me."

"Nikki," he breathed and shook his head.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked nervously. "Or would you like the car key?"

Harry looked towards the key in her outstretched hand and sadly back to her face again.

"We could start again, forget that ever happened," she suggested.

"I can't forget that," he said forlornly.

"Oh," she sighed, the tiny window of opportunity to repair the evening's damage she had offered him apparently being slammed shut.

What was she doing? Stuck out here in the corridor with him, again?

"I wish I could say the key," he said sadly, dropping his head back to his hands, and running them through his hair.

"But you can't?" she replied a flicker of hope beginning to glow within her.

"No," he said and shook his head.

There was another silence, but in it Harry stood up and looked as if he would walk towards her.

She thought he was going to snatch the key from out of her hands after all and drive away into the night but then she noticed a half smile or smirk just gracing his lips, as he leant back on the banister rail. For a second she recognised the old Harry, the one from before today, before all this.

"I wish I could take the car key," he repeated. "But my house keys are in my jacket pocket, along with my wallet and all of it is locked inside the Lyell Centre, which is now cordoned off due to some incident that occurred there earlier today," he explained.

She just stared at him and slowly got to her feet herself.

He'd just brushed off the whole day merely as an 'incident,' another in their long history of incidents. Was it finally over?

"You're sat here, outside my flat because you've not got your jacket?" She asked.

"_You're forgetting; I'm the one in control here."_

"That's not the only reason," he admitted with what he hoped was a grin.

"But you've got no keys?" she clarified.

"No," he shook his head by way of confirmation, it was just another layer of disaster to this devastating day. It was so stupid, he couldn't help but smile.

"Well if you weren't so bloody vain about your trousers, it wouldn't happen all the time would it?" she replied, a hint of amusement colouring her own words.

He smiled shyly at her, relieved to see a softness return to her features and a sparkle in her eyes, despite the dim lighting of the stairwell.

"All the time? When did it last happen?" Harry asked and let out a long breath, freeing him from much of the earlier tension.

"It was only a month ago," she began. "You have to remember, you left your jacket with your keys and wallet in the back of a police car; for reasons best known to you, and they inevitably drove off while you were still attending to the scene," she laughed.

"Oh yes! I didn't get them back until the following morning. You took pity on me; made me dinner and let me sleep on your couch instead of Leo's sofa at the Lyell. I don't know how you manage to sleep on that lumpy old thing anyway?" he was surprised how easily he could join in with her; laughing at his own misfortunes.

"Please?" he asked a seriousness back to his voice.

She stepped back into her flat and held the door open for him, reaching out to him with her hand that was not holding the car key.

He stood and turned to face her, mounting the steps slowly. Regarding her face the whole while; praying that she would see his remorse, and that he would see her forgiveness.

He reached out to hold her proffered fingers, and she pulled him slowly but determinedly out of the corridor and back into her apartment.

"Peace?" she asked as he crossed over the threshold.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"Peace," he promised.

They were two colleagues together after a calamitous day, but this time they were in no hurry to pull apart. They held each other tight, the warmth and security of the embrace beginning to heal the wounds they had inflicted on each other that day. Their souls whispering to each other's that it would be alright now.

After all that had gone on, the hurricane that had swept through the day tearing up and mixing up everything they thought they knew. Here they were back in a familiar place; with everything else stripped away they still had something, something lasting, something stronger than all the angry words. Something built on shared experiences, humour and the deepest of friendships. It would take time to rebuild, but rebuilding after a storm like that gave the opportunity not just for repair, not just a quick patch up job, but to build something new, something better, something that hadn't been there before.

It would be built because one day their time would come. There would be a time; their time; when they weren't exhausted, when there would be no regrets and finally they would see exactly what they needed to see. What everyone else had seen clearly for years. Because some things; some things are inevitable.

* * *

><p><strong>There you go my lovelies, thanks for all the reviews glad you liked the dark side. Hope the endings not too cheesy. I'm away for a while but will leave you with the knowledge that last time I told you I had another angsty story planned and that this was not it. <strong>


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